


Shattered Cages and Broken Faces

by KillerQueen0806



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Slight Canon Divergence, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 00:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerQueen0806/pseuds/KillerQueen0806
Summary: Her bow flies across the strings, and it sings of her siblings’ betrayals.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 232
Collections: The umbrella academy





	Shattered Cages and Broken Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is going to be a sort of character study of Vanya, and what could have been going through her mind at her final concert. I will probably do more like it soon since Vanyas character is so interesting and has so many different interpretations. Thanks for reading!

Vanya stands on the stage, and she plays.

She plays for the little girl who was gone to fast, who listened to tuning forks too often and whose first word was “Focus”. She plays for the little girl who was too young to understand what she did to those nannies. She plays for all the times she was told to keep quiet, making up for the past silence with her music. Then, she plays to drown out the darkness of her prison, for the little girl who stared out the glass as her father left. She plays for the weeks of silence, for the weeks of sadness and crying and screaming, with nobody to come and save her.

Next she plays for the girl with a part of her erased, a page ripped out in a book, forever missing part of the story. The notes sing about slammed doors, about cruel words from those she trusted, those she loved. She plays for the child whose only companion was a violin, who poured her heart into the notes only to have those whose opinions mattered most spit scalding words. She plays for the betrayals, for the silences, for all the words she never got to say, for all the times she was told to be quiet so they could be loud, was told to be small so they could be big.

The gunmen enter, and she pays them no attention. 

Her bow flies across the strings, and it sings of her siblings’ betrayals.

Luther, the leader, the protector, who never seemed to think that she was worth protecting. Luther, whose arms often blocked doorways to where she should have belonged, who looked down on her a lesser, when she should have been an equal.

Diego, whose words pierced her much more effectively than his knives. Sharp whispers floated to her ears whenever he was around. His eyes glared and his mouth sneered whenever she walked into a room, and from him she learned that words could cut.

Allison, her only sister, who giggled and glanced and whispered. Who claimed to love her to her face, and yet laughed at all the jokes the others made at her expense. Rumors flew through the air to shove her out, to make her leave. Smiles to her face and knives in her back. She hurt her the most, because betrayal is so much more painful than cruel indifference. Yet now she claims to love her. But no more betrayals were welcomed, and Number three too turned her back on Vanya when she left her again, stuck in the prison of her childhood.

Klaus, the rebel, the kind one, who never seemed to extend his kindness towards her. He never learned that she was the one who convinced their father to let him out of the mausoleum. Yet, when he saw her in her own cold prison, he didn’t extend mercy, didn’t fight for her as she had for him. Number four, the bleeding heart, and yet he felt nothing for her. She was done giving time to those who would never give it back.

Five, who left her, whose smirk followed her every mistake, her every trip and every flounder. Five, who hid her stuff for fun, and would run with it, blue flashing all about. And yet, even though he was sometimes cruel, he was also her favorite. His words, while biting, didn’t sting as bad as the others did. Then he left, and the painting on the mantel stared down in his place. She turned lights on and made a sandwich every night, hoping he would return and stay, (or was she hoping that he would come and take her with him? It doesn’t matter now; he didn’t save her.)

Ben, the quiet one, who preferred books to people. In a way, his ignorance stung the most. It’s not that he didn’t like her, he just didn’t care. Indifference, she reasoned to herself, was worst, because it meant that they didn’t notice enough to even form an opinion. He read story after story, full of heroes saving the broken, never noticing that someone was breaking right behind the cover of his novel. No hero saved her, and dark eyes never left the pages.

Her siblings charge and Vanya plays.

She plays for all the cries that went unanswered, for all the screams that went unheard. She plays for all the times she was drowning, dying, right in front of them and they never even noticed. Her power tethers them, finally taking back what should have been hers. She takes the energy they should have given, the love they should have showed, and they wither before her. Allison stands behind her, finger on the trigger, but in this life Vanya is not done with her concert, not done avenging the wrongs that have happened to her. She tethers Allison and plays on.

Seconds, minutes, hours later she stops, and her siblings crash to the floor, alive but weak. The moon shines on from above, whole and unbroken, shining down on her smiling face. She likes to think it smiles back. Invisible tethers unfurl from her wrists, with the weights she carried for a lifetime crashing down. 

A pause, and then white shoes tap along a dark floor, past the stunned faces of the people who should have been her family. Not a glance is spared, she has nothing more to give to those who only take. They do not deserve her words.

Vanya leaves, a broken heart healed, and silence reigns.


End file.
